


Look At All That Pain

by WintersCurse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Cutting, Self-Harm, Uuuh basically very angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintersCurse/pseuds/WintersCurse
Summary: Self-indulgent Sirius Black angst with explicit cutting and talk of child abuse
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Look At All That Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Tws for cutting and child abuse 
> 
> I do not endorse self harm and all that. Title is from Fake Your Death by MCR because I am basic as fuck
> 
> Enjoy!

Sirius let the giddiness wash over him as he dragged the blade away from his skin. 

As the blood pooled around the cut, he felt a smile take over his face as the tears flooded his eyes. He watched the blood collect in beads. It ran down his forearm, over the thin white scars and faint red marks. 

In the warm light of the 6th year dormitory, the blade seemed to glow as Sirius ran it across his forearm. 

_Once cut._

He struggled to force down the memories of his mother’s anger, and his father’s cold indifference. But no harm they ever inflicted, no amount of pain, no amount of torment, would never hurt as much as Regulus turning his back with a sneer. 

As Regulus proudly showing off the dark mark on his forearm when all Sirius had was scars and his parent’s disappointment and anger carved onto his. 

_Two cuts._

Sirius had burnt the last letter his parents had sent him. 

He’d read it with Remus’ arms around him and James’ promises never to tell anyone of the tears. Disownment and threats and curses still floated in his head, but they were almost blocked out by the sight of the letter burning. 

Bright flames danced in his mind, fueled by the warmth and safety of his blade. 

_Three cuts._

He laughed, mouth forcing itself into a face-splitting smile. This was why he cut. This pure energy buzzing in his brain, this feeling of ecstasy that burned brighter with each line the blade drew. 

_Four cuts._

A cut for everything he was supposed to be. A cut for everything he could never achieve. A cut for all the problems he caused. A cut for the pain that echoed in his heart and dug its claws in too deep. 

_Five, six, seven cuts._

There was a beauty in the pain, a twisted joy in the patterns the blood painted. 

He was drawn out of the fantasy of lightness and giddiness by a knock on the door. 

Fuck. 

Shoving the blade into the pocket of his leather jacket, he rolled down his sleeve. 

“What’s up?” He called. 

“You alright mate?” James asked from the other side of the door. “Dinner started 20 minutes ago. Minnie’ll have my neck if she knew I gapped it.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming now.”


End file.
